Frank Merriwell's Races Part 61

This time a Yale man carried his colors to victory, and the "Sons of Old Eli" yelled their approval and delight. Yale was doing n.o.bly. This night she was making a record for herself that would be remembered.

But now came the greatest race of all--the mile run. Preparations were made for it, and feverish antic.i.p.ation swayed the great mult.i.tude.

Fred Flemming was literally quivering as he leaned over the rail of the box.

"Let's give Yatsie a great send-off!" he exclaimed. "They are coming out in a minute."

He was watching the point where the runners must first appear. His hand shook on the rail.

The runners appeared. The first was Beatty, the Harvard man, and the Harvard crowd "hoo-rahed" hoa.r.s.ely. Then came Mansford, of Princeton, and the Tigers let themselves loose. Jetting, of Dartmouth, followed, and the New Hampshire lads greeted him in a manner that brought the blood to his cheeks. Then little Judd, the U. P. man, trotted out, and he was received with howls of delight from the Quakers.

"Now--now comes Yates!" cried Fred Flemming.

The Yale man appeared, and Flemming stood up to cheer. He dropped into his seat as if he had been shot, his face turning ashen gray, and the cheer dying on his lips.

"Good heavens!" gasped Tom Thornton. "It is Frank Merriwell!"

But his exclamation was drowned by the mighty cheer which greeted the appearance of the Yale standard-bearer.

CHAPTER x.x.xVII.

TO VICTORY--CONCLUSION.

"Merriwell! Merriwell! 'Rah! 'rah! 'rah!"

It was a mighty roar of voices. Then came the well-known Yale yell, which was repeated again and again. The entire Yale crowd was standing, wildly waving hands, hats, flags, handkerchiefs, anything and everything that could be found to wave. It was an ovation that might have gladdened the heart of an emperor.

It was not strange that the sound nerved the Yale man to vow within himself to die in the effort to win for dear "Old Eli," if he could not win otherwise.

But up in one of the boxes not far from the starting point were three young men who were utterly overcome with amazement and consternation.

One of them had a face that was drawn and pale, as if he had received a mortal wound.

"What's it mean, Flem?" asked Andy Emery, in Fred's ear. "Merriwell is here! Have you been horsing us?"

Then, for all that his parents and his sisters were present, Fred Flemming ground out a bitter cry. His voice shook and he choked, as he answered:

"You know as well as I what it means! Oh, what luck!"

He was utterly unmanned, and his mother, observing his pallor, asked him if he had been suddenly taken ill. He answered her with a snarl, like a mad dog.

The five runners came down to the line. Just as they did so, Duncan Yates burst into the Flemming box.

"What sort of a jolly business is this, Flemming?" he demanded, his face pale with anger.

And then, seeing there were ladies present, he removed his cap and mumbled an apology.

Fred did not introduce Yates; he was too much broken up to think of such a thing.

"That's what I'd like to know," he said, helplessly. "You know we were told Merriwell was not on hand to run."

"But he showed up in time to dress, and I was coolly informed that I wasn't in it. I object to such treatment, and I want to know if it was a job on me."

"If it was a job, I'll give you my word I know nothing about it," said Fred, in a weak and humble manner.

At this moment, as they looked down, Frank Merriwell was seen to gaze straight toward them, and something like a scornful, triumphant smile flitted across his face.

"I'd like to strangle him!" grated Flemming.

The runners were preparing for the start. Pistol in hand, the starter stood ready to give the signal. His voice was heard bidding them make ready.

A moment later, the pistol cracked, and the runners leaped away.

"Oh, if he'll come in the tail-ender!" panted Fred Flemming.

The band was playing its liveliest air, and the runners sped around the track like fawns. Graceful fellows they were, with the possible exception of little Judd. Judd started off bravely, however, seeming to scoot into the lead like a squirrel, his short legs fairly twinkling.

The U. P. crowd let out a great cheer to encourage the little fellow.

Beatty, of Harvard, was likewise a quick starter, and he was right at Judd's heels, while Mansford and Merriwell got away side by side.

Jetting, the Dartmouth representative, was slow about starting, but still he was a runner.

It had been expected that other colleges would take part in this race, but, for certain reasons, there were but five starters.

Around the track ran the lithe-limbed youngsters, with Judd holding the lead for two laps. Then he was pa.s.sed by Beatty, who spurted to get to the front, and this gave Harvard an opportunity to "hoo-rah."

From the very outset it seemed that Merriwell and Mansford were in for a neck-and-neck match. They clung together in a singular manner.

For a time the five runners were well bunched, but there came a stringing out at last. Little Judd began to lag, and Jetting, who had pushed past Merriwell and Mansford, went by the U. P. man and began to crowd Beatty.

The New Hampshire boys cheered him on, and the sound of the yell he loved to hear got into his head and worked his undoing. Otherwise Jetting must have been a dangerous man for the leaders at the finish. As it was, he pumped himself out some seconds too soon.

At the first quarter Harvard led, and she was still leading, with Dartmouth second, when the first half was pa.s.sed.

Then came a fierce struggle for the lead, which ended with the weakening of both Beatty and Jetting. Beatty weakened first, however, and fell back, but Jetting was seen to stagger a bit, recover and go on.

Merriwell and Mansford pa.s.sed Beatty and narrowed the gap between them and Jetting. Mansford set his teeth and gained an advantage of ten feet by a quick break. This advantage he was resolved to hold.

Jetting fought like a tiger to hold the lead, but Mansford crowded him harder and harder, finally going to the front.

Then came a desperate struggle between Merriwell and Jetting, but Yale's colors were carried into second place at the beginning of the last quarter.

And now--now there was excitement. The finish was drawing near, and Princeton had the lead, although the distance was short.

As Frank pa.s.sed the Yale crowd he was given a rousing cheer, which seemed to put fresh life and strength into his body. He crept up on Mansford, who was running like the wind. The difference grew less and less. Eight feet, six feet, four feet--could he close the gap?